The Vision of a Single Man
by Anime Borat
Summary: Enter the mind of the man who unleashed death over the world. Side story/prequel to For What It's Worth.


**The Vision of A Single Man**

A/N: Hi, guys. Anime Borat here. This is my second oneshot of **Highschool of the Dead**. The first one was _A Long Time Coming_, involving Saeko. Although this time, I apologize since this fic has no characters from HOTD. This one, however, is connected to my crossover _For What It's Worth_. This explores the mind of the man who started it all. Enjoy this fic and don't forget a review. Title inspired by inspired by Modern Warfare 3's Makarov and his quote from the reveal trailer.

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><p><em>It doesn't take the most powerful nations on Earth to create the next global conflict. Just the will of a single man."<em>

_-Vladimir Makarov,  
>Modern Warfare 3 Reveal trailer <em>

_Two years ago..._

It was a pleasant summer night in the English countryside. In it was a stately house owned by man who now ran the family business. Before him, his father's father founded a company that specialized in pharmaceutical products in the turn of the century. From his fortunes he bought this handsome country esate from an English lord, who was heavily in debt. He bailed him out of his troubles by offering him besides the value of the home some good shares and a seat in the company's board of directors. The house once leased as a billet for officers during the Second World War and headquarters for an intelligence outfit, his grandfather being an amiable host while his son, his father, served aboard a destroyer for the Royal Navy, guarding convoys from Hitler's predatory U-boats.

The current owner of both the mansion and the company wandered into one of the rooms and turned on a reading lamp. He sat in one of the leather armchairs in a wide den, wearing a red smoking jacket of velvet. It was a lonely night for him since he bade away most of the staff for a week, except for his security detail and a trusted servant. But it was one of those nights were heavy thoughts bear heavily on him, where solitude was key for him contemplate them efficiently which would lead to big decisions. And it is here in this hallowed chamber where some of this decisions were made, to be conferred with later at his parlor or at the meeting rooms of his headquarters.

With an expensive Scotch on the rocks, he examined papers by the light of a reading lamp while the late-night news blared on the telly. His eyes scanning every sentence, every paragraph, every technical term that he learned from his association with the project._ His_ project, his life's work. He had to. Nothing escaped his grasped, nothing at all except for two researchers who continue to remain unaccounted for... by the idiots he hired.

He was partly at fault though since he did not consult his security contractors over the matter, had he did, it would have been hushed up but now there own the loose, the only thing that satisfied him was there feeble attempts to expose or delay his operations, which did little to hurt him in anyway. He had the means to keep that from happening, which he would exploit for the coming days ahead.

He put that out of his mind as he read on. The reports were outstanding, everything in was in place, the results encouraging, the readiness for its launch only weeks, and if he could cut the red tape, days away. Ready to change the destiny of mankind. He had dreamed of it, he had conceived it; he planned it thoroughly from the start, oversaw, organised and strategized.

Now he would have it.

It was something that motivated him from his youth, when he read stories by famous science fiction authors and went on trips with his father's amateur archaeology expeditions. The former gave him hope while the latter gave him something to fear. He also was also enthralled by the advances of technology of his time such as the space explorations of the '60s and '70s, as well as the horrors of the Cold War.

His eyes wandered from the papers to his collection of books that adorned his his room. Collections of books by his grandfather, father and finally himself. Among of them were the works of HG Wells, Jules Vernes, and HP Lovecraft. His most favorite was the Wells novel _The Shape of Things to Come_. The novel told a post-apocalyptic fable where the world was saved from post-war ruin by an airborne fellowship of heroes. They united humanity into a world state by eliminating divisions of mankind such as language and religion.

While he did not share such extreme measures he did believe humanity must free itself from the shackles of its old prejudices and petty squabbles in order to survive into a new world. That was something he must do. For the sake of that future millions must perish but he knew of the consequences of going too far. A price that he was willing to pay heavily but handle it too clumsily and all would lost. It was not something he slept with soundly each night but it everything so far made it worth the bad sleep he was having as of late.

The clock chimed and turned to read the time. It was already eleven o' clock. He decided that he would read the rest of it at his study so he poured himself another Scotch, picked up the folder, turned off the TV and left for his study. He entered opened the heavy oak doors of his study. He sat on his desk and read everything. This time he was reading more of the technical data.

He pondered back about the path he took ever since he decided to change the world. He took a look at a map of the world. From the papers parts of the globe have been designated targets or areas of important strategic interest. Then he looked at the pictures of the walls, mementos from different eras of his family's time. One he saw a picture of his late father with several of his friends at an officers' club. Another with him aboard the bridge of his destroyer. There were pictures of grandfather, father, and himself in various occasions such as formals dinners, business deals, etc. from different parts of the world. And still more from his family's archaeological trips throughout remote places in Africa, Asia, Europe and the Americas.

He frowned as he thought back to some of them. One advantage of his position in the company was to gauge his friends and allies; enemies and rivals. He was able to sift out people who more or less share his vision, people he found reliable and those he opposed and, at an extreme, loathe. He also saw something in them beyond the front-page photos of newspapers and business journals; the manicured sound bites and all those grand things. These things were of an unsavory of sorts which he was not above to use it but only he used it sparingly and with skill since he does not want to derail everything for short-term gain. And also he saw the apathy in the elite of the world towards the future. They were more interested in rise of their stock options, their annual net profits, their Zurich bank accounts and all those irrelevant, inconsequential matters. How shallow their perceptions were to the horizon. How removed to the general condition of humanity as it is now. The veneer of modernity and closer global relations masked explosive rot that threatened to spill out throughout the world which no one bothered to address so as to not to disturb the status quo.

It was his enemies, both self-proclaimed and those who called themselves his friends, that he found the most reliable. While he detested them for their shallowness and pretensions, they were without a doubt useful whenever he needed them. Granted some of them were - and still are - with him but most of them have been effective during his lifelong task, most of them done away like cheap prostitutes when their usefulness has come to an end or have disappeared into obscurity, never to participate in his plans nor partake in the shape of things to come. Such as that time in Japan, in order to open a deal with a joint venture with a number of CEOs of some medical corporations, he remembered about the backroom deals that made them happen. Often times they asked him to provide what was considered an equivalent to formal corporate kowtowing. Whatever their pseudo-nationalistic nonsense and petty aims, they were to be needed in the future so he swallowed his pride and went with them.

At the same time he had to be careful with his friends. He knew that they might usurp everything from him while he was looking away from them or try to hinder him from executing it when the time comes. For now, only a few of them knew exactly what he intended to unleash. The others would be forewarned just before it happened. He then thought about his house staff. He knew of them as faithful and loved their work. He remembered as well that saw to it that their faithfulness was always repaid in full. He visited his househelp's house to celebrate the birthday of her son and that he provided medical assistance pro bono for an aged butler that served his father and a scholarship for his grandchildren. He close his eyes and thought gravely. Should he warn them? Obligation and loyalty insisted he should but his pragmatism warned him that his plan would probably be compromised if he did. It was something that he should ponder.

Then he looked back and at the folder and that reminded him what to do next for the night. He stood up and approached a painting on the wall. He carefully removed it from its place so as not to accidentally set off the alarm and exposed a safe. He then typed the day's code and opened it.

The object held by the safe was not gold or jewelry but a skull. It once belonged to an early human but its species was unknown. In fact he had an extensive collection of this, complete skeletons and artifacts hidden away from museums in the world. This skull belonged to such individual who was also a member of a powerful civilization that predated man by millions of years. Boasting advance knowledge and great wealth, these early humans where the dominant species of their time, lasting millions of years before the last ice age. During their heyday, they lived in large cities in the mountainsides that dwarfed today's in size, social services and population.

He put the skull on the table and examined it. The skull had a ridge on top running across from the front to back. It had wider nasal and ocular cavities. This one once had powerful jaws as the ridge generally acted as anchors for powerful jaws. They were also savages who hunted game for sport such as mammoths and early humans, including primitive representatives of_ Homo Sapiens_. They also warred with one another over resources, over power and God knows what else. They were wiped out by the time of the last Ice Age although holdouts continue to live on up until the eighteenth century, where by the time they lived on as myths of many remote peoples abound, even in merry old England where tales of men who come out and seek prey in the nighttime.

What exactly their demise no one can tell for certain but it was certainly a combination of different factors. War was among of them. Some of the specimens have have fractures in their bones, often alongside what could be describe as tools of war. According from translated ancient manuscripts and hieroglyphics, they often practiced cannibalism, blood sacrifice and slavery. Then there was indication of physical degeneration, evidence of inbreeding. Geological cataclysms brought disaster to their proud cities. They mostly died and man seized its crown as master of the world.

Man would most certainly meet their agonizing demise as well in the next thousand years. Already they were settling in apathy, war has become modernized and everyone insisted of clinging to their prejudices, and people prefer vulgar decadence to real change.

Unless he had his way.

From this fallen mighty race came a solution that can only be described as diabolical. Taking samples from their mummified remains in burial grounds, waste pits and lost ruins, they found an organism that had a unique effect on the human body. Those infected with it where subjected to extreme pain before going into a coma. Then they wake up and start to hunger for flesh. To many who saw it as an abomination to all living science, he saw it as the key to saving the world from its decadent morass. This plague would be key to changing the balance of power. It would allowed to spread to selected areas around the world through tightly controlled epidemics.

At the same time his allies would exploit every advantage they could get to bring about change from reporting on world-wide incompetence of governments to making their own resources indispensable. Florence de Medici made his banks indispensable as well as advocating tax reform and the Renaissance city-state of Florence flowered into a center of culture and learning as well as a power to be feared throughout northern Italy. He and his allies would do the same.

This whole scheme sometimes gave him satisfaction and sometimes it sent dread through him. Sometimes he feared of the consequences and sometime he was impressed of the work that he had done so far to bring him where he was now and that he is poised to complete it. He had spent a lifetime building building corporations, amassing wealth and power, and most importantly, evolving a worldview and the means to realize it. He would not if history is to condemn him for his monstrous acts or applaud him for saving humanity despite immoral means.

If he succeeded the future of humanity would be well worth all the condemnation from the world. The world will change for the better.

All it took was the will of a single man.

The phone rang on his desk rang. It was a secure phone developed by his company for use by military forces and government agencies involved performing sensitive work. It had a computer-style keypad used to write codes and the model he used was capable of wireless communication. A series of internal audio enhancers and boosters virtually eliminated breakup and lost signals.

"Hello?" He asked. There was something burning at the pit of his stomach. He did not know what it was but he knew that if he received a call from his secure phone during the middle of the night, it either meant good news or bad news. He steeled himself for the message.

"Sir, we have a situation," the caller explained.

He frowned. It felt awfully vague, leaving him tense. "Go ahead."

The caller explained calmly, professionally although he could hear a tone of worry in his voice through the phone. His pupils dilated and his eyes twitched. His knuckles whitened.

"They broke in...?" he asked with a shaky voice. "And took it! Everything!"

"We had serious security breach, sir," the caller explained in a startled voice. "Almost no one left alive."

_Terrorists took my weapon from me_, his mind hissed angrily. He wanted to scream into the night. He wanted to tear the head from nearest person's neck. But his composure kept him numb and furious at the same time. He would find a way to get it back. The profane anarchists took the fruit of his labors and intended to use it for their own useless ends.

In his angry mind, the terrorists were a physical manifestation of the many evils he sought to purge from the world. These terrorists and their ilk would only lead to the world's downfall and extinction of the human race. They knew nothing beyond the sanctimony of their supposed holy mission, the more terrible of them resigned to their fate of bringing hatred and death to their enemies while their lesser rank-and-file knew nothing beyond arrogance and hate, marching to drums of sanctimonious loathing, singing their version of _Christian Soldier_ and _Horst Wessel Lied_, formenting amongst themselves of their moral superiority over the infidel or the capitalist pig. They would pay... All of them... together with their moneymen, their patrons who harbor them as well as those around the world unworthy of being in power in his new world.

After he received the caller's explanation he said, "You take care of the situation on the ground, I'll take care of the rest. See to it is done or I'll have your head."

"Yes, sir," the caller replied shakily and hung up. After that he dialed the number of his security contractor, Omicron. The fools had to be made to account for this debacle and find away to remedy it.

"Hello," said the voice of the secretary. "This is Omicron Global-"

"Get me your boss," he rudely cut in.

"I'm sorry, sir," the secretary replied, not flinching from his tirade. "He is not here at the premises."

"Thank you," he said sourly and punched in the home number.

The man was roused awake by the ringing of his phone. He got up silently so that would not disturb his wife. "Hello?" he groggily said.

"Your security has been breached," the caller of the other end angrily said.

His eyes opened wide in surprise and he recognized his voice. "What? That's impossible, sir. I've oversaw the exchange of personnel myself last month."

"Well, your relief has failed horribly," he spat on. "I want you to know that they took it."

"Jesus..." he muttered in disbelief.

The man in the mansion continued to discuss the matter, an inquiry over how it happened was not their concern at the moment. What he really wanted was a way to recover the weapon and, if possible, salvage the operation. He needed it done.

"Is that all?" he asked. "Ah, thank you. Do what you can while we discuss the matter tomorrow." He hung up and sank back in the chair. This was like a punch to the got. He never had anything like this since his lead scientist deserted him when he realized the true nature of his work. Omicron told him they neutralized him, only to get an e-mail that stated that he lived. And promised to return the favor to him. And then there was that German fellow who lead his archaeology teams.

He was still angry. But he was relatively not concerned of this matter. He had never undertaken a business venture or political operation that did not experience a few obstacles and he had many experiences with tricky or heavy ones. If it could be done, there may be still hope for his work to succeed.

Even as he chafed in anger, he decided that he needed to sleep. It would do no good if he came to assess the matter if his mind was fatigued. He drank the his Scotch in one gulp and got up. He placed the skull and the folder into the safe. He was going to burn it but since he received the damning report, he needed to review to see if there were to be any changes required. Shutting the safe and putting the painting back in place, he left the room and retired to his bed.

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><p>Here is my work. I know again you may be disappointed to see no HOTD characters, I decided to write this story as a side story to <em>For What It's Worth<em>.


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